The Moon is Rising and I'll Never Be Alone
by sarsaparillia
Summary: We are a family of survivors. — full cast; Silver Millenium AU.
1. a small and unfortunate murder

**disclaimer**: disclaimed.  
**dedication**: new bookshelves, goddamn but do I need some.  
**notes**: this is the kind of thing that happens the night before I have a psychiatrist appointment. god damn it.

**title**: a small and unfortunate murder  
**summary**: Gratitude and forgiveness are not the same thing. — Venus, Mercury, Kunzite.

—

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_Venus will remember it like this_:

The world is ending.

It is as simple as that.

Kunzite stands over her. Everything hurts. The steel in his hand shines slice and black in the pale luminesces that shines from the moon's surface, the sigil of his ownership carved elegantly into the wrist guard. There is nothing in his eyes as he looks down at her.

Nothing.

No recognition.

She is torn already, the palms of her gloves soaked through already with blood and sweat. Her hair spills around her thick as liquid gold, and Venus reaches for his face from the ground and croaks his name.

"Speak not my name, witch," he replies.

He is colder than anything in the entire solar system—he is colder than Neptune's deep dark oceans, colder than the farthest reaches of Pluto's oblong orbit, colder even than the highest peaks of Mercury's icy surface. He is so, so cold. Beautiful, too, but that is Kunzite—silver and gold, they were a matched pain in their own sick brand of leadership.

His face is leaden. Venus sees nothing of mornings spent in long spars while they waited for their charges to disengage from one another, when the clash of metal and the low ragged inhale of their own breathing were the only sounds. She sees not the conversations where every word was just another move on a much larger game of political chess, played across the entire Silver Alliance. She sees not the tactical genius who has matched with and strength with her every step of the way. She sees not the man she has come to know.

What she sees is nothing at all.

Venus stares up at him for what seems like a very long time but is really only half a second.

"Do it, then," she commands. Venus has never asked for anything in her life. It is not in her nature to ask—she has always been given what she wants or taken what she needs, and while that is truly very little, she has never regretted taking something; not the fruit from the kitchen nor the hearts from men.

She has always given in return.

It is not until now that she has regretted giving. It has cost her princess' life.

And there is nothing in the _universe_ that is worth Serenity's life.

"I will _haunt_ you," Venus snarls as she pushes herself up to sitting, wincing at every movement, and _spits in his face_. "Until the end of _time_, I will _haunt_ you."

He wipes the spit away as calmly as he ever wiped dust off his uniform. It does not faze him at all, and Venus hates him more, in that moment, than she has ever hated anything including herself. It is a red-hot, frothy hatred that showers gold and tangerine along her bones, and what she would not give—_what she would not give_—to have this situation reversed.

She would tear him to shreds for this betrayal. She would open up his chest and crack his bones and take hot wet bites of his heart, eat him all the way up and then leave his corpse to rot on the floor behind her with his blood still dripping from her lips. She would not let him forget. She would not,

Venus stares him in the eyes as he raises his blade. Her eyes are blue as Terra's summer sky.

She waits for the blade to come down and end her life.

It never does.

His gaze goes duller than stone, and he slumps over, foaming at the mouth. It is disgusting and endearing all at once, and she is coolly, distantly surprised to see Mercury is standing there with her arm out, trembling as she breathes. There is an empty syringe in her bloodied glove that Venus knows Mercury kept on her body at all times in case of a suicide mission—it is fast-acting Mercurian poison that does not have a cure.

Solar wind rips through the Moon's atmosphere-bubble. The tattered hem of Mercury skirt blows with it, patches with something that Venus does not want to know about turned a blue so dark as to be nearly black.

The Senshi of Ice reaches down to pull Venus up. It is only the salt-rime of grief in her eyes that gives Venus pause enough not to kill the girl on the spot.

It is long enough for her to catch her head.

She will not kill Mercury.

Not tonight.

"Thanks," Venus says shortly.

She is not thankful at all.

"We swore," Mercury says softly, gently, "to protect Serenity until we die. I am not yet no longer breathing, and neither are you."

Mercury speaks often in double negatives. Venus hates it, and this is not what she wants to hear, but it is what she _needs_ to hear. She stuffs her emotions away to be dealt with later, when she is not half-mad with sorrow and shock and worry. The emotions ball up in her throat. She forces them down.

Mercury cuts a cold, beautiful figure in her ragged senshi uniform against the dark of the sky. There is crimson drying on her face, and she is blue and serene as her planet is.

Venus loves and hates her in equal measure.

The Senshi of Love locks her head away on the spot. She gathers her hair and her skirts and her courage (gold, orange, gold again), and allows the thought of Serenity's smile to take her anger away.

"Come along, Mercury," Sailor Venus says. "Let's go find our sisters. We fight to kill."

Mercury's nod is tight. "We always do."

As they go, Venus takes Kunzite's sword from the ground. She will stab it through Beryl—and whatever else gets in her way—to get to Serenity, even if it kills her.

The Silver Millennium does not end that night.

—

"You killed him."

"I had to," she says. She is calm. She is too calm. She does not even look up from her book, she is _far_ too calm. "He was going to kill you."

"So what_?_!"

"'So what'?" and this does make her look up. Blue eyes flash, lit darkly with a venom so fierce that the other girl flinches. "'_So what?_' Do you even _hear_ yourself, Venus_?_!"

"I _loved_ him! He was _mine_!"

Mercury finally sets the book aside. It is a thick tome, and the pages lie open as faded sunlight spills in through the window. She stands very slowly. The Medal of Honour that Selene bestowed upon them both hangs heavy around her neck, a near-living reminder of that night. She looks Venus in the face, and all traces of emotion are gone.

"Yes," she says simply, "he was. And Zoicite was mine. But who do you think I had to go through to get to you in time, Irina? Who do you think I had to kill?"

It is not often that anyone speaks Venus' given name. It is almost a taboo in court; only the other Senshi and the princess are allowed to speak it freely, and Mercury does it least of all because she understands what it means to want to allow one's past to be the past. But she stands there in front of Venus in a simple blue dress, hands folded neatly in front of her, and stares her down.

For the first time in her life, Venus is on the receiving end of one of Mercury's sneers. It is not something to be proud of, to be in this place, she thinks.

Mercury's eyes are dry. "Who do you think I had to kill? Voice it, Irina! Make it real!"

Venus says nothing.

Mercury's shoulder come up around her ears, and her face turns very somber. She seems to shrink in on herself, and Venus' every instinct is to protect, but then Mercury speaks.

Her voice is very quiet. "Killing Kunzite was the easiest thing I've ever done."

Venus' hands clenched involuntarily into impossibly tight fists. She could feel her nails through the fabric of her gloves.

"I can't ever forgive you," she says.

"You don't have to forgive me," Mercury says. Her voice has gone slack with exhaustion, weak, and Venus hates, hates, _hates_ her for it. This is not the time to be weak; _they do not have time to be weak_.

"But you do have to thank me," she continues.

"Why?" Venus asks.

She is genuinely curious. Why? Thanks? Why?

"I saved you a lifetime of grief. I saved you from being unable to ever forgive yourself. I saved Serenity. I saved _you_," Mercury says, low. Her gaze is very far away. "You can blame me, Irina, but you can _never_ not thank me."

This, Venus thinks, is very true.

There is no telling what might have happened, had Serenity died. Venus knows she sleeps safe and sound in Endymion's arms, now, but had she died… no, there was no telling. She did have Mercury to thank for avoiding that fate.

She does not voice those thanks.

"Gratitude and forgiveness are not the same thing," Venus says instead.

At this, Mercury finally laughs. It is bitter as unsweetened root tea. She laughs and laughs, until her lungs must hurt from the force of it. Venus pretends not to notice how pale she's gone.

"No," Mercury chuckles weakly. "No, they are not."

—

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_tbc_.


	2. all her teeth are sharp like knives

**disclaimer**: disclaimed.  
**dedication**: to Sonya, my personal Mercury.  
**notes**: so I thought I was finished but then BAM INSPIRATION.

**title**: all her teeth are sharp like knives  
**summary**: His greatest downfall is his love for beautiful things. — Mercury/Zoicite, Serenity.

—

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_Mercury will remember it like this_:

The world is not ending.

But the Silver Millennium might be, and she will be damned before she allows Serenity to die.

Her heels click loudly against the faintly-glowing marble floor of the Silver Palace as she runs, and she runs until her lungs are burning and the nape of her neck is damp with sweat. Mercury ices it away, irritable. And for a moment as the snowflakes dance around her, she is suddenly back in the Mercurian winter palace high in the mountains, buried deep beneath thick blankets as she read herself into exhaustion, breathing icy wind to turn the pages.

She shakes it away. That was a very long time ago.

Mercury rounds a corner, and freezes her way through a platoon of _things_. They rip and tear her way through her skirt and leave her bleeding; in return, she strokes along their ugly darkness and leaves grotesque, shimmery ice statuettes in her wake. She makes a mental note to have them removed when this is all over—she will send them into empty space in frozen pieces _herself_, no matter what Venus will say.

Her heart-beat turns a little faster, and she prays to the planet Mercury's patron goddess for speed and safety of journey. She needs to find her leader and her princess before it is far too later, because only Venus would have the courage to kill Endymion if it really came down to it—only Venus would have the spine, only Venus would have the nerve, only Venus would be able to bear it.

Because Mercury knows that no matter how much Serenity loves them, the Terran prince is everything she has ever wanted. And she would be unable to forgive them all for a very, very long time.

(But there is a difference between friendship and love, and what the Senshi have is not friendship—it is responsibility. That they all love her so much it is impossible to quantify is secondary, in the face of this.)

Finding Venus becomes a direr situation by the minute. Mercury hurries along the long halls. The pillars are shaking and coming apart as she goes—she does not want to know what is causing Selene's heart such grief that the Queen would weaken so, but Mercury suspects that it is her princess.

It is very hard to function when her most precious person is out of reach. This Mercury knows better than the back of her hand. She looks at the ground, and thinks of the only person she has ever loved in a manner that is not particularly, er, _platonic_.

He has come very close to taking Serenity's place in her heart, and this is a dangerous thing. She is not sure if she should allow him in further; she does not know if she ought to let him see the last places she has kept secret from him. To do so may be catastrophe, although for all she knows—

Mercury's ankle twists beneath her. She bites her lip to bleeding to control the pain, and drops to one knee to press icy fingers again it.

Her power numbs the pain, but only just.

The small phial of Mercurian poison presses deeply into her wrist. She knows without having to be told—without even Mars' eerie foresight—that she will use it tonight. Though if it is on herself or another, she is not sure.

But she will use it.

She can feel it in her bones.

She stays down on her knee for only a moment longer. Then she stands, slow as the crawl of an iceberg, and—

—knocks the top of her head into someone's chin. There is a curl of copper-gold hair caught her in her mouth, and she knows this body. _Oh_, she thinks, and then sinks into his chest.

"Zoi," she sighs out. "Oh, thank Circe."

"Well, hel-_lo_, little bird. Who might you be?"

Mercury freezes in his arms. He has not called her _little bird_ since the first time they met, when she promptly froze him to the dance floor, and stalked off with her head held high. It was a very _Mars_ thing to do, only it would not cause the lasting damage that Mars usually meant to inflict.

He had laughed, later, quick and vibrantly alive, and promised to never call her that again.

And Mercury knows, then, what Beryl has done.

Everything inside of her is ice, never-ending ice. She struggles to find her voice. "I am a girl."

"I can see that," and his smirk is cheeky and familiar, but the dull bottle-green of his eyes is wrong. He does not know her. "But where do you belong? Something Queen Beryl cooked up, perhaps?"

He bends until they are nose-to-nose. "Or do you belong to the other side?"

Mercury does not shrink away.

"Does it matter?" she asks. They have been this close to each other before, and the flush still rises to her cheeks unbidden. It is not something that has ever been under her control (and for belonging to a species that prides itself on its icy emotional control and critical eye it is an embarrassment), but for now, it seems to be working in her favour; she can tell he is searching in her for something, as though she's stumped him once again.

Mercury aches, deep inside, and does not allow herself to cry. Instead, she finds Mars' fiery dark eyes and Jupiter's sweet smile in her chest, and Venus' courage and Serenity's simple _love_, and she mashes them together someone and plasters it across her face. She prays that it works.

It seems to.

"I'll have to kill you," he teases.

The sad thing is that despite his tone, he is completely serious, and Mercury can't even bring herself to care. Zoicite cradles her head. And he kisses her, he does, but it is different. There is a dreadful blackness to his mouth and his is rougher than he has ever been. It takes everything within Mercury not to struggle away. Her hand scrabble at his hips as though reaching for purpose, but really she is searching for the knife he always keeps at his hip.

It is deadly sharp.

And Mercury is going to kill him with it.

Her back is up against the wall, and she murmurs softly into his mouth. _My love, my love,_ she thinks, _forgive me please_.

Mercury slips the knife from its sheath as his hand slides into her hair. He doesn't even notice. _Stupid_, she thinks, sad, _you never learn. Stupid, stupid, stupid_. His mouth is red and wet and vile.

She shifts enough to palm it, slides her hand up slow and slick.

Mercury kisses him only once more. It is soft. It is gentle. She had never thought herself beautiful, but he had. His greatest downfall is his love for beautiful things. He'd told her that, once, and touched her like she was the answer to every prayer.

Mercury hates herself for using it against him.

He stares at her with wide eyes as she ducks away from him, under his arm, and splits him open from sternum to hip. He thuds against the wall, trying to hold himself together.

He is red and grey inside.

Mercury is going to be sick.

"Witch," he breathes, and smirks again.

"Yes," she says. Her tears are single clear tracks down her cheeks. "Let go, my love, please."

His eyes slide shut. He bleeds out fast, and she drops down beside him on her knees to cradle his head (payback, returns; she owes him this). His blood stains her skirt dark.

"My love," she says again, "I'm so sorry."

She only allows herself to hold him for a little while. She is numb. She is nothing. She is nothing at all.

And then she is up and running again.

Venus, Serenity, Venus, Srenity—she thinks the names like a mantra, over and over again. They are her only hopes, now. Let them be alive. Let them be alive. Let them be alive.

And so when she finds Venus on the ground, gaze calmly trained on the leader of Endymion's guard with his sword raised, Mercury acts without thinking. She jabs the poison into his neck and watches him fall. Her feelings are tucked neatly away in a box that she sets in the dusty corners of her mind, never to be touched again.

She has killed once, this night.

What is one more?

Mercury helps Venus stand.

Nothing is ever going to be the same between them. She already knows that. She has already accepted that. Mercury is not afraid of Venus' hatred.

Not if it saves Serenity's life.

But there are others to find, still. Mercury reaches for Venus' long golden hair, and touches the ragged ends, thick with blood, for only a second.

And then they go.

—

The medal that Selene hangs around Mercury's neck is very, very heavy. Urnaian platinum, she is told, and worth more than she cares to fathom (and this is saying something, as this is Mercury, and numbers are one of her favourite things in the entire universe). She accepts it gravely in front of the court as is proper, and her face does not change at all. The Mercurian delegation radiates smug satisfaction.

Everything inside of her is screaming to split them all in just, just as she split _him_, and she would watch them all bleed and she would _laugh_.

See how they'd like it.

But she doesn't.

Instead, she stands, and nods politely and does not smile, not even once. Serenity touches her arm (it is the same spot, and it burns), a very gentle thing; she looks soft and weak and so very, very precious that Mercury's heart aches.

Mercury touches the princess' arm in return, and then excuses herself.

It is not until later, after she has escaped the laughter and the raucous rejoice that always follows these things, that she allows herself to feel.

"Oh, Circe," Mercury says aloud, and covers her face with her hands. "I think I'm going to be sick."

She rushes to the bathroom, and heaves into the toilet. The porcelain is cool against the flush of her cheeks.

"Evadne? Are you there?"

"Oh—Serenity—don't—I—" Mercury begins.

Serenity floats in anyway. The alarm on her face sets off all sorts of bells, and Mercury trembles as she tries to stand. There is something very wrong with the universe if the Moon's princess looks like _that_.

"Hey, hey, stop!" Serenity says. She kneels down next to Mercury, and curls her hands around her face, hot little pads that Mercury can concentrate on. "Stop!"

"I killed him," Mercury breathes. "I've never kill anyone, but I killed him, and Kunzite, too, oh Gods, Serenity, Irina's never going to forgive me, I _killed_ him, what do I _do_?"

Serenity cups Mercurys face and brings them forehead to forehead. They used to sit like this as little girls, the youngest pair whispering secrets to each other that the elder girls could only smile at.

"You loved him," Serenity says.

"I do," Mercury nods, and closes her eyes.

The tense is not lost on the princess. She shakes her head a little, and golden hair flows around them both. "You saved my life. You saved all our lives. Maybe the whole Silver Alliance."

"I know," whispers Mercury. "But I killed him."

"Thank you," whispers Serenity in reply.

Mercury nods again, eyes still closed. "I'm never going to forgive myself."

Serenity links her fingers through Mercury's. It is comfort and love made tangible, Mercury thinks distantly—if there was a way to bottle Serenity's compassion, there would never be another war ever. They cling to each other, desperate each in their own ways.

"You will," Serenity says, and presses her mouth to the high, cold curve of Mercury's cheek. "I promise."

"How can you promise that?"

Serenity's smile is so sad Mercury thinks it could break a heart. She shrugs a little, shoulders so pointy and so young and so _loved_.

"Give it time, Evadne. That's all you can do. Give it time."

"Okay," Mercury says. "Okay."

—

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_tbc_.


	3. the future with the lights on

**disclaimer**: disclaimed.  
**dedication**: to Chloe. yes. good. re-watch Sailor Moon and then come cry over the Shittenou with me. yes. good.  
**notes**: I need a job.

**title**: (the past is only) the future with the lights on  
**summary**: The goddess of Fire and War keeps her hands clean. — Mars/Jadeite, Venus.

—

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_Mars will remember it like this_:

The world is ending.

She _should have seen this coming_.

Mars sends the arrows flaming down from the highest tower in the Silver Palace. They have magic for defense, not walls—she's always argued that it is _not enough_, and now she'd been proven right. She would gloat, but she really doesn't have the time for that right now, and she's not going to pretend that she does.

She can hear the youma screeching, trapped against each other as Mars sets their lines alight. It is an ugly, satisfying sound, and she can't help but bear her teeth at them, unholy glee writ in the lines of her smile in silent, leering challenge.

She is Senshi, and this is her stage.

They cannot _touch_ her, here.

Mars is of fire and brimstone and war, the High Holy Priestess of her planet no matter _what_ her father thinks. This war is _hers_; she's almost thrilled with it, and she sends another volley of fiery arrows spiraling down to _burn them all_. Mars will cleam hem with her own soul—she certainly has enough of it.

She meticulously does not wonder where her sisters are.

They will be fine.

She sends another vindictive blast down to the enemy just because she can.

They all scream the same.

The only thing Mars gives them in reply is the strange, dark-eyed smile she keeps hidden from all, except in cases like this: this smile is for war or for dancing in the living Martian flames as she spins _sakk'ri_ fortunes, and nothing else.

After all, there is nothing the Martian people love so much as fortunes and warfare.

Venus commands the Senshi. Mars commands the _wars_.

And so she swings down from the tower scaffold, wreathed in her talismans and her murder and her mystery. Mars can hear the collective gasp of the Martian troops. She is their princess; heir apparent (despite her father's best efforts), and they adore her on principle.

She flips her hair over her shoulder—_you've been spending too much time with Irina_, a voice snickers somewhere in the back of her brain. Mars brushes it away. There is _no such thing_ as spending too much time with Venus (except when there is)—and she eyes the troops under her command to take careful note of all their faces and burn them into the back of her eyelids.

There are going to be casualties.

There always are.

Mars will grieve these men and women.

She bows her head, and she knows that they will understand; some return the gesture. It delights her and depresses her in equal measure—they understand that she is saying _goodbye_ and _good luck_. The newest recruits can't even seem to manage to nerve to look at her. They all seem afraid.

_Well_, Mars thinks bitterly, _it's not as though they haven't reason to_.

They would all have heard the rumours, by now, about the fire witch and her distaste for contact. She would fry them all to Tartarus and back if they ever laid a careless hand on her, and Mars' eyes go hot and furious at the very thought.

No, they would not touch her. Not in this life. Not in any life.

She would grieve them, but she would not allow herself to be touched.

She moves down to the palace courtyard, gaze turned upwards to land on that hated blue planet.

They are trying to kill her princess. It is unacceptable. Despite the stolen moments in front of a roaring fire in a primitive hearth, despite the way his eyes has burned blue as salted wood, despite _everything_—Mars cannot forgive that.

And so it is no surprise at all to find Jadeite leaning against a pillar, smirking feral and so smug that she itches to slap it off his face and leave bleeding slashes all across his skin. No surprise. Mars bares her teeth again, only this time there is no accompanying smile.

"I should have known you'd be a traitor," she says, voice even but for the trembling edge of rage. She really should have seen it coming, She should have known that he'd the traitor: he is a _man_.

After all her experiences with men (Mars very carefully does not think of her father for very many reasons, chief among them is the fact that she will take it out on the man standing in front of her, and he does not deserve a death so crisp and painlessly clean as that), she should have known that no good could come from the Terran population.

They lived short, violent lives.

_So primitive_, Mars sneers.

Distaste masks the deep-cut betrayal. She'd allowed herself to get caught up with him, with the idea of it, the idea of him.

It would have been very grand, the world that Serenity wished to create.

Mars almost wishes it could have been true.

"They call you witches at home," Jadeite laughs.

Mars inclines her head, and tries not to allow that carefree laughter to burrow beneath her skin. It will only hurt later. "I am a witch. But you already know that, don't you?"

His eyes burn again (salt-blooded, she thinks, cold-blooded, lizard, _snake_), and Mars itches to incinerate him. Or kiss him, or knock the wind out of his lungs and watch as he gasps the way he always does when she applies her teeth to most parts of his body.

Traitor or not, he belongs to her.

They were always rough. She because she could; he because he was trying to keep up. Mars thinks of it now, thinks of how his lips curl up after she's laid him out, the cinnamon of his breath and her hair around his face in a long dark curtain and how she would leave marks scored all down his chest, blood beneath her the crimson of her nail polish.

No, they were not gentle.

And if he is a traitor—and he is, Ares, he _is_, she can feel it in her _bones_ and she _should have seen this coming_—she will not be gentle in her retribution. She will be swift and violent and she will never let him forget it.

The _snick_ of steel against sheath makes her smile.

"Are you going to kill me, Jadeite?" Mars laughs.

It is the first time she has laughed all night.

The long curve of his blade shines. She runs her fingers through the fall of her hair, a beautiful dark waterfall and she knows that he watches it, watches the pale swoop of her throat.

Jadeite turned traitor is still Jadeite.

He hungers.

And so does she.

The violence that comes next is hard to swallow.

They tear into each other. Mars sets her hands alight and burns the sword dull. The edge is still sharp, but not enough to cut through her Senshi gloves, and she moves and he moves—she knocks him in the head, but he swings and she's not expecting it—

_Oh_, Mars thinks. _I'm going to die_.

There is a flash of gold and orange, a bright blue of colour that is out of place in their makeshift battlefield of crimson and leached grey.

Venus runs him through in one fell swoop.

She pulls the blade out, and Mars only catches a split-second of her face; there is no victory there, but there is hatred and grief, and when she pulls the blade out of his chest, Mars recognizes it as Kunzite.

(She doesn't ask, then. She doesn't really want to know.)

Jadeite falls for what seems like forever. Mars looks away as he hits the ground.

Mercury stands a ways off, arms wrapped around herself. They are both battle-worn and bloody—Mars has never seen meticulous, methodical Mercury so careworn before, and she walks the length of the courtyard to slip her arms around the petite Senshi's shoulders. A quiet understanding passes between them. The goddess of Fire and War keeps her hands clean.

(It is better than turning and finding the pool of shining black blood that Mars knows surrounds his body. Anything is better than that.)

Venus breaks it. "Let's find Jupiter and Serenity. Pray to Aphrodite they're both alive, or I'm contacting the Outers. I'll wake _Saturn_ is something happened to either of them. Are you coming?"

The last sentence is not a request. It is a command, and both the Senshi of Fire and the Senshi of Ice take it as such. They both nod, and Venus swings towards the palace gardens—that's where Jupiter would be, and she is to protect Serenity above all else. The gardens are safe.

That is where they would find their princess.

Jadeite's body lies between them and their quarry. Venus is already walking straight ahead—she steps over the body, _no_ respect—and Mercury follows. Mars pulls up the read.

She steps over his body, too.

"I hate you," she says aloud, but softly enough for only the dead man behind her to hear.

Either way, she doesn't look back.

—

Mars burns the only thing she had of his the moment she is alone. It is just a shirt, but it stinks of him and his cinnamon and his betrayal, all spicy-sharp, and as it goes up in smoke, and she can do is smile.

Venus stands in the doorway. "That's morbid."

"The burning?"

"The smile," Venus says, and grins out of the corner of her mouth.

"And you're one to talk?" Mars asks. She doesn't look at her as she says it. There is no reason to, not yet, and watching Jadeite's shirt burn is more entertaining by far, "I heard you screaming at Evadne."

Venus shrugs, light-hearted for the first time in days. "I think the whole palace heard me screaming at Evadne."

"Did she really kill him?"

The lines around Venus' mouth go tight. "Yes."

Mars scoops up the last glowing embers and carries them to the window cupped in both her hands. They barely feel like anything, but then, a lot of things don't feel like anything, these days. The rend in the moon's atmosphere has been mended, and again there is no wind.

Mars doesn't very much care.

She takes a deep, deep breath, and watches the ashes scatter to the ground. Venus comes to rest at her side.

"You once told me _duty over love_," Mars says softly.

"I did," Venus replies.

Mars rests her head on her friend's shoulder, and breathes out slowly. "Good."

"Why?"

"Because I don't, either. Thank you for… you know."

Venus slides an arm around Mars' waist. "It was better that way," she murmured, "for the both of us."

"Mercury did what was right," Mars says.

Venus breathes out slow. "I know. It's just—"

The smile Mars gives her is wry and tired and ending slowly.

"I know," she says. "I know."

—

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_tbc_.

**notes2**: still needing a job.


	4. thistles and weeds

**disclaimer**: disclaimed.  
**dedication**: to Emily. she is my Jupiter.  
**notes**: someone told me to describe myself in one five-worded sentence. My reply: _I am Sailor Moon, bitch_.

**title**: thistles and weeds  
**summary**: The handprint down her uniform is red as red can be. — Jupiter/Nephrite, Mercury.

—

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_Jupiter will remember it like this_:

The world _might_ be ending.

She can't really tell. There is a trembling to the palace walls and the floors that floods her mouth with the acridity of fear. It is not a taste that she particularly likes.

Jupiter's bones tremble, but she waits steady and calm as old oak. Deep roots, deep calm. Nothing touches her, but electricity crackles around her fingers involuntarily

The inner gardens are calm, and that is what matters.

Because it is the inner gardens that Jupiter has been assigned to guard—the inner gardens, and Princess Serenity (and Prince Endymion, she mentally adds. _But_, she thinks scathingly, he can take care of _himself_).

The gardens are beautiful, this time of year. The lunar roses have bloomed blue-silver and glowing, still just beginning to open and near-perfect. Serenity and Endymion have hidden themselves away together just behind the fountain, and they are alone.

This should bother her more than it does.

But Jupiter has always been the most soft-hearted of Serenity's guardians. Not the most beautiful (Venus), not the most intelligent (Mercury), not the most pre-cognisant (Mars), but she is the one who most wants Serenity to be happy. She is the one who allows Serenity to linger longest on those stolen Terran moments; she is the one who conceals the princess' absences the longest.

And she is the one who Serenity comes to, starry-eyed and love-sick, to whisper secrets of the Terran prince she has fallen in love with.

Jupiter holds her that first night, torn between the shimmering bliss that radiated from Serenity's shoulders thick as a mirage and her duty to the Silver Alliance. But, well, heart over duty—Jupiter would pull the stars down from the sky to keep Serenity happy.

This is the Jovian way.

And Jupiter thinks it is impossible that there is anyone in the universe that would not be charmed by Serenity's smile.

Jupiter glances behind her once again. Serenity and the Terran prince are still deep in conversation, sitting side by side, arms brushing with every breath. They sit on the lip of the lip of the fountain, and the rush of falling water turns their conversation mute.

She doesn't much mind. The prince has twined the lunar roses into Serenity's golden, and Jupiter knows that he treasures her princess near as much as she does. For now, it will have to do.

He will die to keep Serenity alive, and that is enough for Jupiter to give him her trust.

The sound of footsteps against marble slithers down her ear canals and Jupiter shudders. There is something—some_one_, no doubt—coming.

She tightens her grip on her spear.

He steps through the opening into the gardens, long dark hair like a cape over his shoulders. Jupiter freezes, tempted to run towards him and curl into his chest, but there is something wrong, something _wrong_, it's in his steps and the way he distributes his weight and it is _wrong_.

The relief pours off of the man behind her. "Nephrite, thank Helios—!"

"Your Highness," Nephrite says, and inclines his head. "Queen Beryl will be delighted to hear of your safety."

Even the cadence of his _voice_ is wrong, Jupiter think. His voice is dead flat—it is not the warm, loud-rough rise and fall that she knows so well.

He hasn't even looked at her yet.

She struggles to keep her face neutral as he steps forward; even as he does, Endymion takes a half-step in front of Serenity. Jupiter quietly approves.

Nephrite takes another step, and a ball of sickly-coloured purple light begins to coalesce in his palm. He'd never done that before. Spoke to the stars, yes, but this? No, no, _no_. Jupiter is sick at heart.

"Leave the moon witch, Your Highness. She taints you," Nehrite says. Endymion tenses, shoulders locking in on themselves, and a tiny little gasp escapes Serenity's lips.

It hurts to hear.

But it is what motivates her.

"That is _enough_," Jupiter says. She slams up a cage of brilliant blue-yellow electricity around him, and she looks to Endymion. Her knuckles are white around the silver shaft of her spear. "Your Highness, take the princess into the castle. You should be safe there—I will remain here, on guard."

The lines around Endymion's eyes tighten—he is only seventeen, and Jupiter thinks he is so young. This boy is no king, not yet, but after today he might be. She can see that is restraining himself from beating Nephrite over the head himself, but she's laid claim to that right.

She thinks they both acknowledge it when he nods, and loops his arms around Serenity's waist and lift her into the air.

Her princess starts to scream.

"Jupiter! Jupiter, you can't! No, Endy, put me down, I need—!" Serenity shrieks, voice crackling with pain. Her hair is in long golden strands down her back, and Jupiter watches them swish with a single-minded intensity to prevent from staring at the man in the cage of lightning. Serenity hits her beloved once, and squirms until she's looking Jupiter right in the eye. "_Jupiter_!"

Jupiter walks with electricity crackling around her heels, and carefully turns her face away. electricity is her element, and she knows it better than anything else—it is easier to concentrate on the power than on the pleading in Serenity's eyes.

Suddenly, Jupiter misses the storms on her home planet desperately.

"Alma!" Serenity screeches at last. "Almathea, _look_ at me!"

And Jupiter does. Her eyes are bright. She smiles as hard as diamond and twice as shiny. It is a lie, but it is a good one.

"I'll be fine, Serenity! You know me." Jupiter pauses to breathe, and does not quite meet the princesses' gaze. "I'll come find you once—once I'm done here. It won't be long."

Mercury's voice resonates in her head:

_If you can't tell the truth, at least make your lie a pretty one_.

Serenity looks at her for what feels like forever. She bites her lip, and finally, _finally_ nods. Her voice is very small. "Promise me you'll come?"

Jupiter just smiles again, a little painful around the edges. "Go on. I'll be fine."

And then Jupiter turns to the last flickering vestiges of the cage and beyond it, to the man standing there inside. Her heart lets out a painful wibble and she crushes it, savage and vengeful. Love is Irina's emotion. Love belongs to Venus. Jupiter is of deep-rooted strength—and she will bury her heart, for now.

She's never been very good at that, though.

"What did that witch _do_ to you?" Jupiter asks, very gently. There has to be an explanation for this, because if there isn't…

If there isn't, she is going to destroy him for leading her on as long as he has.

Jupiter is not Mars; Jupiter does not hate the opposite gender on principle. But she is fragile in a way that not one of Mars or Venus or Mercury are. Jupiter is fragile like glass, but revenge comes hot and sparkling from her hands in gold electricity and green leaves to cut through paper and skin.

And revenge is very easy for a girl who dances through jungles and thunderstorms like they are ballrooms full of candles.

Nephrite's face is perfectly blank. "You're the witches. Queen Beryl's where she belongs—and the Prince'll be returned to her, as he should be."

Jupiter flexes her fingers. "Do you even know who I am?"

"Am I supposed to?"

Her face stills, smile going splintery along the edges. She feels sloshy inside, looking at him like this. She wants to scream _yes, yes, yes, you're supposed to know me, you're supposed to __**love**__ me, what's __**wrong**__ with you?_!

"Yes," she says. Auburn curls fall into her eyes.

"Why?"

She thinks back to the first time they ever met. It's still clear in her head. Jupiter remembers the rain on her skin as she dances through a thunderstorm the likes of which she hasn't seen since she was a child. It is gorgeous and she dances, dances, dances then stumbles and—meets him. He has the kindest eyes she's ever seen, and she thinks of his hands, his smile, and realizes she's fallen into surprised, excited love, and—

Well, now it doesn't mean very much, does it?

The tears hide behind her eyelids. It's pure force of will that keeps them from spilling down cheeks. Jupiter smiles so hard that her face hurts.

He probably sees weakness, but Jupiter knows that this is strength. There is salty wetness on her lips. It's been three whole weeks since she's heard him speak, and this _is not him_.

Jupiter's throat clenches.

This is worse than anything that crawled out of the sea to attack the moon's magic. This is worse than anything, anything at all.

But Jupiter has killed before.

She knows how this works.

She moves fast as lightning (no one is faster than her, no one, but she's heard that one of the Outer guardians moves faster than solar wind, and anything, anything to keep her mind off what she's about to do), ducked down underneath. He always did forget to watc his left and she thinks _I love you_ in sharp little bursts of pain.

If he doesn't kill her for this, she thinks the hurt of it all might just do it for him.

Her spear finds a crack in his armour. Jupiter rams it forward with all her strength—it is not lethal, not yet. A bubble of dark blood pops at the corner of his mouth (she thinks she might have puncture one of his lungs), even as his fists curl around her spear.

His face has twisted up into a feral snarl. It is ugly.

She wants to kiss him. She wants to kill him. The feeling is as ugly as his snarl, and it sits low and deep inside her stomach, eating away at her from the inside. Hatred is poison, Jupiter thinks.

"Never mind. It won't hurt," she says, "much."

The electricity leaves her fingers. It is a quick thing, a single jolt of power, and his heart stops. She can feel it, the way he shudders and stops his everything. The twitch to his fingers rakes along her spine, and she will never forgive herself this.

Jupiter pulls her spear from his body and collapses to her knees.

There isn't hardly any blood.

In fact, there isn't a single scratch on her.

She takes his hand—gone cold, already, and soaked in the congealed blood at his side—and streaks it across her the white of her fuku. The handprint down her uniform is red as red can be. Jupiter does not regret it at all.

(Mercury's voice, again: _If you cannot tell the truth, at least make your lie a pretty one._)

And this is how the other Senshi find her, kneeling beside a dead man, white in face with her spear at her side.

—

A lot of time passes.

Jupiter isn't sure how much.

Mercury sits still beside her—Mercury is like a glacier, Jupiter thinks, Mercury is strong and silent and icily beautiful in the sunlight. Slow movement not to scare her, but Mercury is kind and Mercury is gentle, and when she wraps her arms around Jupiter's shoulders, things go easy.

"We won," Jupiter says.

"No, we didn't," Mercury replies. The bow of her lips is turned upwards, but twisted small and bitter.

The victory's turned acrid in Jupiter's mouth, and she drops her chin to rest on Mercury's blue head. "We did terrible things."

"We have. Is that alright with you, Almathea?"

Jupiter closes her eyes and thinks of Serenity. Serenity wide-eyed and laughing, honest and _good_ and she is the only real thing left in this universe, their princess. Serenity is the last good thing.

Jupiter has killed before.

Serenity has not.

Serenity should never have to kill.

Jupiter slings her curls around her neck and shrugs. "I guess so."

"Why?" asks Mercury.

This question hurts for many reasons. Jupiter's eyes are brilliant but dry. "Because I have to be," she says.

Mercury nods. She can accept this.

The two Senshi sit together for a long time after that, but neither speaks another word.

—

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_tbc_.


	5. the darkest evening of the year

**disclaimer**: disclaimed.  
**dedication**: to Sonya, because she helped create that image I got of Mercury in a ruined skirt saving Venus' life: you spawned this, broski, so I'm running with it.  
**notes**: here's number five, but we're still not done, ladies and gents. we have a long ways to go, yet.

**title**: the darkest evening of the year  
**summary**: They are all broken, and she cannot fix them this time. — Serenity/Endymion, the Senshi.

—

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_Serenity will remember it like this_:

Her world is falling apart.

Her world is falling apart, and there is nothing she can do to prevent it.

Endymion holds her tight. She is safe in his arms, but she is safer knowing that Jupiter is just around the corner. Nothing can hurt her, here in the inner gardens, but Serenity is not naïve. They are being invaded.

Serenity's heart aches.

"Why?" she asks him softly. "Why is this happening?"

The bubble of water from the fountain is her only response, be holds her a little tighter. She shakes all over and presses her face into the crook of his neck. Venus would never approve—which made sense, Venus didn't like Endymion very much—but Jupiter was willing to overlook it. Warmth suffused her as she thought of her Jovian Senshi.

Jupiter would keep them safe, and that was what mattered.

"What now?" she asks.

Endymion's mouth is a tight white line, and his eyes are as blue as planet she fell in love with all that time ago. Serenity reaches out to trace the planes of his face—the sharp line of his nose, the dip in his lips, the quiet curve of his jaw—and she loves him, loves him, loves him _so much_ that she's not quite sure what to do with herself. His is the most beautiful soul she has ever come across, and she knows that if he asked for her hand, she would give it without a thought.

(The Silver Alliance had her mother. The Silver Alliance would have her mother for a long time. It would be just fine, because the marriage would be the perfect political alliance, and oh, Artemis, Serenity loves him _so, so much_.)

There is a rustling, the soft susurrus of careful footsteps against marble. Serenity looks up, looks around—

Endymion gasps. "Nephrite, thank Helios—!"

Things move very quickly, after that.

Later, Serenity will not be able to say exactly what happens right then. She will remember screaming and screaming and screaming, reaching for Jupiter's auburn curls as Endymion carried her away. She will remember how green the Senshi of Thunder's eyes are, stark emeralds in a diamond face, and she will remember the fear in them. She will remember the determination.

But that won't be until later, and right now, Serenity trembles with the force of her worry. Endymion is not much better, and they sink to the ground together in one of the courtyards. They cling to each other each, rocking back and forth and whispering nonsense to try to calm themselves down.

(It will take Serenity a very long time to understand how truly young they are.)

"We're all going to die," Serenity says. She is certain of it, now. None of them will make it through the night, and if they do, not a single one will be the same. _She_ will not be the same.

War does terrible things to people, and Serenity is barely involved.

Artemis, what is she _doing_?

She presses her face into the crook of Endymion's neck. His arms go tight.

"You won't die while I'm alive," he says.

The certainty in his voice both awes and terrifies her. Serenity kisses him then, mouth soft and slow. She doesn't have the words to convey all the things she wants to tell him, but for now, this is enough.

He seems to understand, anyway.

Serenity drops her head forehead, down and rests in the crook of his neck again. She takes slow, deep breaths in as she calms herself down.

"I love you," she says very, very softly.

He is warm around her, and he whispers the words back over and over and over again. The steel of his sword hilt digs into her hip, and it hurts, a little, a tiny sting. But it is a good hurt, something sharp and clean and bright-edged, and in that moment, Serenity knows with an impossible certainty that she will not love another living being as much as she loves Endymion.

It is simply not possible. Her heart would burst, if she ever even tried.

They hold onto each other for a long, long time.

"Well, isn't this is just _quaint_?"

Endymion stiffens, and draws Serenity closer. She peeks over his shoulder, and catches sight of a beautiful woman in a dark blue dress with shining crimson hair. She drips purple jewels and black miasma, and she stands with one hip popped to the side as she _smirks_ at them.

"The Prince and the Princess, star-crossed lovers, all tragic and perfect. You make me _sick_," she says. There is a laughing, cruel undertone to her voice, one that both hungers and destroys.

(Serenity remembers a legend her mother told her once, about a god called Chaos. It had wanted to eat the moon. She has no idea why she thinks of it now, though.)

"Lady Beryl," Endymion replies, still stiff.

She sneers at him. "_Queen_ Beryl, darling. They bow to _me_ now."

Serenity runs her fingers gently through the soft dark hair on the nape of Endymion's neck and whispers more comforting nonsense to him. It is a hush-a-by mumble, and it calms him some, but he doesn't take his eyes off the redheaded woman in from of them.

His hand never leaves the hilt of his sword.

Beryl's steps are slow and measured. She walks like someone with all the time in the world, and she tips her head at them, fingers tapping out a strange, inhuman rhythm against her lips. "Now," she says, "which one of you ought I kill first?"

Serenity can't even find it inside of her to be scared.

"Step away from Her Highness, if you please," someone calls from across the courtyard. The only thing any of them—Endymion, Serenity, Beryl herself—see is a flash of gold and orange and red. There is strange sense of déjà vu in the air, and Serenity thinks _one has been killed with that sword this night_.

Beryl coughs once, and Venus viciously pulls the sword out of the woman's body. She slides to her knees, and the Senshi of Love stares down at the her, eyes blazing with something colder than the outer rings, and says "You dared to threaten my princess. You _dared_."

There is more to it than that, Serenity can see.

"Venus—!"

"Stay _back_, Serenity," Venus nearly snarls the order out.

Beryl laughs again, and there is a bubble of black blood pops at the corner of her mouth. "You precious things," she laughs and laughs. "You think you've won! But you know nothing, darlings. Chaos always wins, in the end. You should just give up while you still have the chance. It will hurt less, in the long run."

"Any other last words?" Venus' voice is impeccably calm.

"No, thank you," Beryl says, and smiles. It is a terrible thing to behold.

"Serenity." Venus says," close your eyes.

Serenity closes her eyes tight as she can, and buries her face deep into Endymion's chest. She is not a child. She knows what comes next.

_Swish._

_**Thud**_.

Beryl's head rolls.

—

She remembers very little of the aftermath. She knows that there is a ceremony, and much celebration. She knows that Mercury and Venus do not look at each other. She knows that Jupiter does not raise her eyes from the ground. She knows that Mars wears living fire.

But these are all inconsequential things, in the larger scheme of things. Serenity remembers none of what was said.

What she _does_ remember is the way all four of her Senshi end up in her quarters that night, grieving quietly. Her bed is big enough for all five of them if they squish, and so they pile together in a crush of limbs and love and support.

Mercury and Venus still will not look at each other.

Serenity pretends not to notice the discord.

They don't cry, not a single one of them. But they cling to her, cling to her hair and her hands and the edges of her dress like she is the last thing that anchors any of the them to the ground. They are all out of uniform, and they all look lost and alone.

They are all broken, and she cannot fix them this time.

So Serenity runs her fingers over them: through Almathea's curls, over the upturn of Evadne's nose, across the high planes of Cyrene's cheeks, and lightly over Irina's perfect lips. These girls are not her Sensehi, not right now.

Right now they are her friends, and she loves them so fiercely she thinks she might die of it.

(Endymion is the in the back of her mind, but they've given him quarters that are far from hers, and her friends need her more right now than he ever could. He'd wanted to grieve on his own, and she can give him that.)

"Thank you for saving my life," she whispers.

"It is our duty," says Cyrene, and Mars shines out through her eyes. "We would do it again. We _will_ do it again," and Serenity swears she sees sparks fly from Mars' fingertips.

"We love you, Serenity," says Jupiter, but truly it is Almathea saying the words: as a friend, not a guardian. "Mars is right. We would do it again."

Serenity winds her arms around Venus. "I know. But you… shouldn't have to. I would release you—"

"You will _not_," Venus says sharply. "Our lives are yours. They always have been."

_Don't take that away from us_ remains unspoken.

Serenity looks at Mercury, last. Her first friend, the one who whispered silly little secrets in her ears when she was child, and when they snuck to the library together where Serenity would fall asleep and Mercury would read until she did the same—Mercury is asking her not to take that away from them, either.

And so Serenity will not.

She gathers them close, all of them.

"We're alright," she says. "We can sleep now."

"Yes," Venus says softly. "You can."

"No," Serenity reply. "We. Us. All of us. In here tonight, like we used to when we were little."

Her Senshi look at each other then back at her, and soft, sad little smiles grace all their faces. They are so incredibly wonderful that Serenity wants to cry, and she does what she can to pull them in closer.

"We can sleep, now," she says again.

And so they do. Five girls curl together on one bed with their breathing gone even and slow, fingers linked and limbs askew. None of them can tell where one begins and the other ends, and they all know that this is how it should be.

They rest.

—

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_tbc_.


	6. fit objects for our tears

**disclaimer**: disclaimed.  
**dedication**: to sleep, or lack thereof.  
**notes**: happy thanksgiving, all other people living in Canadaland. :)

**title**: fit objects for our tears  
**summary**: The Queen loves them with a bright-edged, sharp love that pierces deep down. They are so young. — Metallia/Selene/Pluto.

—

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_Selene will remember it like this_:

Her empire is crumbling.

She'd often wondered when it was going to happen, and that time seems to have finally come. All empires crumble. All empires fall.

But Selene is not prepared to let it happen today. Her daughter is safe with the Senshi and that boy—he does love her daughter an unspeakable amount, and that is enough for Selene at this moment.

The Fire Senshi is gleeful in her destruction, and Selene smiles. Mars is a delight, she thinks, a little ball of wrath and flame packaged up in beautifully somber wrapping. there are not many men who would dare to approach such a girl, and as said girl is devoted to the last family Selene, she knows that there is nothing to worry about.

Her daughter's Senshi will die before they allow Serenity to come to harm.

The Silver Palace is over-run with demons, but the barrier the Moon's monarch has erected around the throne room is impenetrable to all who bear ill will to the Silver Alliance. She'd briefly considered putting one such barrier around Serenity, but her daughter is powerful and would have broken it with a flick of her wrist. One day soon, she is going to be ready to take the crown.

And what a beautiful Queen she would make, Selene thinks.

There is, of course, the problem of the Terran boy. Serenity loves him fiercely, and nothing in the universe can change her daughter's mind once it has been set.

Selene smiles fondly. Sadly.

Just like her father.

Serenity is going to change the Silver Alliance in a way that hasn't been tried in a millennia simply because of who she is. If her husband is Terran, logically, Terra would be inducted into the Alliance. Heirs of either blood would only be a deeper bond—if a Moon child of born, she would take her place as Queen of the Silver Alliance in turn; if the babe is of Terran blood, the child would be returned to his or her own planet to take his or her own rightful throne. Better to have both, and keep the ties between the two planets secure.

Eithere way, there are no downsides, Selene thinks.

Terrans live short and violent lives.

Serenity's husband is no different.

Her daughter would age as those of Moon blood do; she will still be little more than a child when the boy dies.

And Serenity will move on.

Yes, the Queen can be satisfied with this. It is the only logical procession, her own Mercurian Senshi would have said. But that dearly beloved girl is long dead, and Selene does not dwell on the past.

It is the present with which she is concerned.

She does not know how long the barrier will hold, and there are things she must set in motion. First, the Outer Senshi.

The COM link flickers to life beneath her hands. It does so reluctantly, because the Moon's computers seem to favour the Mercurian touch, but they do as she tells them because she is _Queen_, and that is no small measure of authority.

"Guardians," she says, "hello."

The screens focus in on four different girls. Uranus and Neptune stare at her in awe, and Pluto—Pluto simply smiles that mysterious smile that Selene has always loved so very much. Saturn sleeps, young and helpless in a glass case. There is no need to awaken her, yet, and so Selene does not release her. The Silver Millennium will not fall this night.

"Your Majesty," whispers Uranus. Her voice comes out crackling and low with static over the link, and Selene wants to sweep the girl up and cling to her—she looks so like her father. Neptune echoes the statement. There is raw emotion in them both, need and an unquenched loneliness.

They will be good for each other. This Selene knows with a certainty that tingles deep in her bones.

"Selene," Pluto says. "Why have you called us?"

Both Neptune and Uranus gasp at the casual way their elder addresses their monarch. Selene hides a smile behind her hand. Pluto is older than she is—Pluto has earned the right to call her by her first name.

"The Palace is being attacked," Selene states as calmly as she can, which is decently calm, given the gravity of the situation. She keeps her tone light. "I need you three here as soon as is possible—Chaos has made its move, my Guardians. It's our turn, now."

Pluto's eyes have gone as cold as the farthest reaches of the orbit of the planet she guards. Selene can count on her haste. She stares at the other two guardians. They look fearful but stubborn. The Queen loves them with a bright-edged, sharp love that pierces deep down. They are so young.

"Are you prepared, little ones?"

Uranus straightens, short blonde hair curling around her face. "Always, my lady."

"And you, Neptune?"

Neptune bows her beautiful, ocean-coloured head. Selene is struck with a sudden memory of white sand beneath her toes, laughing loudly as she played in the ocean as her own guardians looked on.

It has been such a long time.

She's missed Neptune's answer entirely, but it bothers her little. The girl will have answered in the affirmative, either way. A Senshi's life is lonely, Selene knows, and all of them—_all_ of them will do anything to avoid being alone forever.

"Pluto—" Selene begins.

"I am on my way," says the Senshi of Time. Her screens goes black, and this time Selene cannot hide her smile. Neptune and Uranus stare boldly at her for another moment, before they, too, nod and allow their screens to flicker into darkness.

Selene stands there for a moment, a dripping ray of silver light on silver keys, and she stares at the last screen for a long time. Saturn is as tiny as ever; she does not age within her glass capsule, and she is nothing but a pale little girl with dark hair and tiny hands.

No one would believe that such a small child wielded the power to turn the universe to ash.

Selene will wake her for the coronation when the time comes, but never until then. Every Senshi must be there to see her Queen crowned, even the Senshi of Silence.

For now, though, she will allow the little girl to sleep.

Selene flicks the screen off, and something _hisses_ through the door.

She remembers then that _nothing_ keeps Metallia out when she wants something, and massive cloud open an ugly gash for a mouth and makes a sound deep in her throat that feels like lust.

"My darling Selene," Metallia rasps, and reaches for her. The longing in the way the evil creature says her name makes Selene's skin crawl but also breaks her heart. "It has been so long."

This creature took her husband (the only man she'd ever loved), her friends (the only people she'd ever trusted), and even her mother.

And yet, Metallia hungers still.

Selene cannot even pretend she does not know what for.

"Hello, my love," Selene says simply.

"To whom do you speak?" the question spills out too fast, too eager, too harsh, too hungry, too _wanting_.

Selene's answer is already at the tip of her tongue. "You, beloved. It has been so very, very long."

She can tell that Metallia—Chaos—Metallia eyes her with distrust and lust, two sins that oft go hand in hand. And it is true: the evil thing should be wary, because Selene could send her back into the center of the sun with a single wish on her Silver Crystal, and it would be the end for a long time. Serenity's reign would not be troubled, but there would be others, and Selene would not be there to stop Chaos from crushing the Moon's defenses.

And Selene is very, very tired of this game.

They've been playing it for far, far too long.

The only thing that Metallia can take from her now is Serenity, and Selene will never, never allow that to happen. Not in this lifetime. Not in any lifetime.

Metallia curls closer, shifts around her and Selene can feel arms all around her; it is all the people that Selene had loved that Metallia had eaten to keep her attention.

The sad thing was that she'd never needed to take anyone away to keep Selene's attention, because Selene had loved Metallia once, too.

The ruler of the Silver Alliance reaches up, and cupped some of the dark cloud in her hands. It shifts solid, and Selene holds a face that is ethereal and wretched all at once, neither man nor woman and constantly shifting except for the eyes; eyes like burnt-out holes in the world, they are.

"I'm _tired_, Metallia. I don't want to _play_ anymore. Tell me what you want."

"You know what I want—what I've always, always wanted, but was never allowed to have. You _know_!" it hisses.

Selene laughs soft and gentle. "So the crystal, then?"

Metallia hisses again, louder this time, and hurt. "_You_, Selene. I take your mother and your friends and your husband—_husband_, _why_ did you marry when you promised me—!"

Selene sighs. "We were children from two different planets, Metallia."

"You were _mine_, and they took you _away_!"

Selene leans into the smoke-monster, and rested against the solid mass of evil. She turns the words over and over in her mind. Yes, her mother took her away from that place, but with good reason. Nothing that loved the light had lived on that planet, and Selene's mother had ruled against allowed it into the Alliance.

"Yes," Selene says. "Yes, I was."

"And you will be mine again," Metallia murmurs, now, curling into Selene's ear canals. Her words are sweet poison, searching to find a way in.

"No," Selene says. "You will be mine."

Metallia snarls an incoherent noise that might have been a question. Selene's hands feel like ice and she is afraid, sweat dripping down the back of her neck, because this is it, this is her last chance to end this.

"I'll keep you inside of me. We'll be together. The same body, Metallia, my love. When we die, we die together."

"Inside?" Metallia murmurs the question.

"Inside."

Metallia curls ever close. "Forever?"

"Forever," Selene repeats automatically, and prays to every god she knows that she isn't making the biggest mistake of her life. It's looking to be one of them, but she doesn't know for sure yet. Her life will end considerably sooner. Serenity will be an orphan. Selene's heart aches.

Metallia is silent for a very long time.

Selene prays and prays.

"…Yes," Metallia hisses. "_Yes_."

And Selene opens her arms and her mouth wide, gaze calm. the game is over. She's won. She's won. She's won.

Metallia cloaks her like a second skin, and then sinks beneath the surfaced. Selene can feel everything she has ever been crying out against this invasion. It hurts. It _hurts_. She clenches her jaw shut and then her eyes and forces herself not to scream. Everything goes black, and Selene fights for her body, fights for her daughter, fights for her life.

When the blackness recedes, Pluto is at her side.

"Selene," she says gently, eyes soft.

Selene reaches up and touches the planes of her only remaining Senshi's face. Pluto is the last, the only, the untouchable.

Selene loves her so much that it causes physical pain.

(Or maybe that's just the demon in her chest.)

"It's over, Selene sighs into Pluto's shoulder. "It's done."

"It's never over, Selene. Never," Pluto replied, and cradled her fragile monarch in her lap. Selene appreciated the gesture, and pressed her mouth to Pluto's lips in reply. Metallia hisses, and is ignored. Selene's body is her own to do with as she pleases, and it pleases her to kiss her last, beautiful Senshi.

"No, my darling," Selene said. "This time, it's done for good."

—

Later, Selene hangs a Medal of Honour around her daughter's Mercurian guardian. The girl is more melancholy than any creature Selene has seen in her life, and that includes herself. No one should ever be as sad as this Mercurian girl is.

Selene knows the story. Selene knows what this girl did.

Selene does not judge her for it.

"You bear a heavy burden, little one," Selene says quietly.

Mercury looks up at her, and blinks only once. Her eyes are bluer than any sky Selene has ever seen, but there is a knowing in them that she cannot ignore. She bows her head, and says "Your burden is heavier than mine, Your Majesty. Thank you."

With that, the girl bows from her waist, and then walks away.

She'd been perfectly polite. Selene isn't going to question how the girl knows what she does—it does not matter, truly. What is done is done.

Inside her chest, Metallia purrs.

—

.

.

.

.

.

_tbc_.


End file.
